<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Give N̶o̶ At Least A Little Quarter by irlkingofnewyork</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618970">Give N̶o̶ At Least A Little Quarter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlkingofnewyork/pseuds/irlkingofnewyork'>irlkingofnewyork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pirate, Multi, Tags to be added as I go, Trans Racetrack Higgins, first chapters are a little rocky so forgive me, medda adopted the whole crew, nonbinary finch, thats just how it be</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618970</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlkingofnewyork/pseuds/irlkingofnewyork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Higgins needed an escape. Maybe to somewhere he wouldn't be found. Maybe to somewhere where people actually cared about him for more than his skills.</p><p>Luckily enough, lady fate heard his call. She decided to give him that, and much more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eventual Spralbert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lady Luck Is Smiling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A huge thank you to my betas! Thank you Albert ( @alberts-hat ), Dylan ( @fakenewsies ), and Kit for helping me! Honestly they've done so much for me with this fic and they deserve all the love in the world!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thick sheets of heavy rain blanketed the surface of the world that a figure was running from. The figure was Anthony Higgins, a cobbler. Ex-cobbler. It was hard to get your old job back when you’ve been caught being a carrier for some rather illegal paraphernalia. Anthony insisted in court that it wasn’t his fault, he was doing what was needed to survive. See, he was an apprentice at the time, which meant the man he was learning from had no patience, no kindness, and least of all mercy on him.</p><p> </p><p>If he was honest, he smuggled so he could eat.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony was lithe, fast, and quick at the work he did on his side-hustle. The drive to work and the general physical structure required to do the job well were there, so of course it was what he would turn to. This also meant, however, that he was slippery. Anthony was easily able to duck, dip, and dodge out of the way of bounty hunters, officers, or so-called good samaritans after his head. Now, he wasn’t to be mistaken, he certainly did some pretty nasty things to be able to do the work. It was illegal, it was almost required to be littered with backstabbing, swindling, and cheating. Getting caught seemed to also be a requirement, so long as he could escape any clutches that wanted to bring his method of feeding himself to a halt.</p><p> </p><p>Escaping was the only thing he was doing lately. Wanted posters littered every board with his face sketched across parchment. Everyone now knew his signature smirk, from the wealthy end of town to the rotten ports. It is among those rotten ports that Anthony had found his destination. A wise woman in a dream once told him that you couldn’t run the same tricks forever. At some point you had to have some place to go.</p><p> </p><p>Long ago, he thought it was his own way of wanting to see the stars. His own way of wanting to experience the hustle and bustle of clean stone pathways overflowing with people. His own way of wanting to become a king. Now, he saw that it was a way of hiding. They couldn’t find you in a hiding spot that moved every time. That "place to go" wasn’t some fancy dinner in a castle, it was wherever he knew he’d be safe - even if just for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Which brought Anthony to the pier of a run-down and barnacle covered dock. There were ships filled with barracks and soldiers, ships of goods for merchants, and a few ships ready to be purchased across from the visiting lot. Light footsteps on the dock were concealed by the crashing of the waves to the sand and wood beneath the pier. Logically, he knew that any ship could be incredibly dangerous, that he could be executed for choosing the wrong one, the majority vote with his logic and self-preservation was overcast by his reliance on luck.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, lady luck.</p><p> </p><p>She was the one who got him into this whole mess in the first place. It wasn’t his fault that the man he tried to whistle over was a soldier. One that just so happened to be disgustingly <em> loyal </em> to the law. Usually, he was completely fine. He had a knack for finding great customers that would always come back for more. Of <em> course </em> it just so happened that the shadiest looking guy he’d ever seen would be the most law-abiding one. Anthony cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, but what’s done was done. He needed somewhere that he wouldn't be seen. Somewhere he wouldn't be noticed if he stashed himself away.</p><p> </p><p>Caught up in his thoughts, the blond completely forgot about the entire fleet of officers chasing after him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Well, shit</em>,” might've just been his last words as he picked some ropes at random to clamber up. Little did he know the ship he was getting onto was rather fitting for a criminal like him.</p><p> </p><p>It was a ship that specialized in criminals. Thieves, pillagers, murderers. A pirate ship. One that seemed abandoned of all crew members despite looking to be in near-immaculate condition. Though, he didn’t quite realize that possibility until he was already below deck, scanning barrels to find one that just might be empty. Lady luck seemed to be wanting his forgiveness as it was only the fourth barrel he pried open that lacked any contents.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony struggled a little to fit inside the barrel. Sure it could fit a man of his frail form, but not of his slightly towering height. He wasn’t gargantuan, but nearing six feet made it almost impossible to fit into the cramped container.</p><p> </p><p>Almost impossible.</p><p> </p><p>As uncomfortable as it was, he managed to cram himself in with his belongings. Closing the container, he waited impatiently for his pursuers to give up.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed like ages... hours until all the voices outside carried out into the quiet creaks of the boat. Waves rushed by and Anthony considered a break. His shoulders were cramping and his neck was getting splinters from pressing against the barrel’s worn side. Finally pushing his way out of the wood, he stretched out, looking around to see the ship still abandoned.</p><p> </p><p>That was weird, but maybe everyone was asleep or out on the town. Would they really leave their boat unattended? Especially with whatever valuables that could be on board? Anthony decided he’d scope out a little bit more of the place before deciding to sail off with the crew.</p><p> </p><p>Unbeknownst to the actual crew itself, naturally.</p><p> </p><p>He quickly scuttled around the ship, laying out pathways between a small kitchen and the bunked rooms. Something was strange about the ship, something he hadn’t heard of before. Instead of just a bunking floor with frail mattresses strewn about the place, there was another deck that actually held bedrooms and a ward that seemed slightly larger - possibly for medical work. Given, Anthony had only ever been on one boat before when he first arrived at that town and it wasn’t a particularly nice or large one. However, the new ship he found himself on must have been a travel ship or one for luxury, he would have guessed. It wasn’t extremely fancy by any means, but the fact that it had lodging on two levels <em> plus </em>a deck outfitted with cannons?</p><p> </p><p>It made Anthony wonder what he had gotten himself into.</p><p> </p><p>He realized he’d rather not find out now as he heard footsteps stampeding over his head, the ship filling with voices and laughter. <em>Shit.</em></p><p> </p><p>He ducked into the nearest room available, finding lady luck again as boxes lined the walls of this one. Not all the bedrooms were actually bedrooms, it seemed. This one was being used for storage and hiding in a crate was likely going to be way more comfortable than hiding in a barrel. Plus, from the smell of it, this was used as food storage. Even better for a hungry stowaway to stumble upon.</p><p> </p><p>Anthony thanked luck again for existing as he moved some crates to be able to hide behind them. Surely, he wouldn’t be found. All he had to do was lay here for who knows how long with nothing but crates, the sound of the sea, orders being barked, and the small bag he had brought with him.</p><p> </p><p>The boat began to rock, and Anthony’s ears filled with the sounds of heavy fabric, moving chains, and the merry chanting of seafarers getting ready to depart. Lucky him, to be getting on just as the band of buccaneers were making their way out.</p><p> </p><p>Hours ago he was the most wanted man in the city. But now? Anthony Higgins was a man getting ready to sleep the days away until the boat stopped and he could begin a new life.</p><p> </p><p>Talk about a grand escape.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Orange Is Now On The Floor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Race just wants a midnight snack.</p><p>He gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Big thank you again to my betas~</p><p>Albert ( alberts-hat )<br/>Kit ( brooklynishere )<br/>and Dylan! ( fakenewsies )</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With any great action, any spectacle or display of grandeur oftentimes came high risk. Consequences for failure were to be expected, especially if the fool performing the act was entirely reliant on his luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A fool like Anthony Higgins, who now found himself caught red-handed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not exactly red-handed. The oranges he was found eating were still, in fact, in his hands. Though, instead of being able to chow away in the silence of the room, someone had decided to join him for the midnight snack. Someone with feet as light and soundless as his own. Of course, all of that running and </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> he gets caught by some luck of a kid wandering around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Given, he really couldn't blame the kid. Nosiness was something that was very common in young children and it looked like this one couldn’t have been older than twelve. Though, Anthony wasn’t particularly great at the age-guessing game. He wasn't much better at the staring contest this kid had with him either. It sure didn't look like he was going to win anytime soon, not with the kid’s expression of surprise painted permanently on his features. Knowing he wasn’t going to be crowned victor, he figured he’d at least give it a shot to defend himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, kid, I ain’t gonna be here long. If yous can keep this quiet, I’ll be outta this boat before ya know it,” Anthony began, his heart racing. He tried to keep a calm demeanor and luckily he wasn’t being immediately threatened so it worked out fairly well for him. “Just- what do ya want? Food? Somethin else? I can even get it for ya,” he offered, doing what he could to de-escalate the situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few days had already passed without incident on the ship. Surely they had to be stopping soon. Anthony would let this kid wander off to bed again, they’d never speak of this to anyone and he could go on his merry way once they stopped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that luck could ever decide whether to help or hate him. That was the gamble of his everyday life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finch! There’s someone in here!” the child called, ruining every chance Anthony had at making it cleanly through this mess. He cursed to himself and dropped the orange he was eating. Quickly he swung himself around the crates, knowing he had to hide. If he did so fast enough, maybe the kid would think he was hallucinating and forget it. Then, whoever that Finch person was, could tell him to go back to bed and the thief would be safe another day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, Les?” someone said, presumably Finch. Footsteps let Anthony know they walked into the room. “I don't see anyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony peered through the cracks in his hiding spot. The light was dim, but usable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re back there!” Les ran into the room, picking up the orange and holding it out to Finch. “They dropped this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brunet wasn’t that tall, Anthony noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was still sure he was screwed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go get your brother and I’ll see who’s back there. Maybe it’s JoJo and you spooked him.” Finch now spoke with a gentler tone, one that had a bit more concern. Though, it could have been guessed that he was trying to get Les back to sleep before any possible conflict.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear it’s not anyone we know!” Les assured before running off to go find his brother. The sudden silence was making Anthony’s breath catch in his throat. He was helpless as he watched Finch slowly approach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was how he died. This was the day he got locked up for the rest of his miserable life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was sure of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on out. You know we’re gonna find you anyways.”  Finch was looking directly at Anthony, like he could be seen behind the small crack. <em>Shit.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony silently asked his gods for protection before he rose to his feet, hands raised in the air. He couldn’t speak. The pounding of his heart rang throughout his body and he almost didn’t hear Finch speaking again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be afraid. We ain't monsters or anything like that.” The seafarer extended a hand out, losing all intimidation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finch waited for Anthony to shake his hand before he introduced himself. “I’m Finch, as you may have guessed. Now, last I checked, you weren’t on the list of inventory. That’s kind of my job, so I’m gonna need your name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m Anthony,” the blond stammered out, starting to wonder if seasickness could be brought on by shock. “Anthony Higgins.” His voice was flat but the general tone carried a clear weight of confusion. He could hear someone coming down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Anthony, I’ll be sure to let the crew know you’ve been on board. I will say, not all of ‘em are gonna be excited to meet ya.” Finch laughed, and Anthony had absolutely no idea what to make of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I was bein’ chased. I had to get out of the-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is everything okay in here?” The pair was interrupted by a tall figure in the doorway. The man was only half-dressed with a coat one size too small haphazardly thrown around broad shoulders. Finch gave him a two finger salute before he addressed the room. “Finch, who’s this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is Anthony. He-” Finch briefly looked back to the stowaway, scanning him. “He, right?” Anthony nodded and the brunet continued. “He was just about to blurt out his life story. I'm trying to get the juicy parts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finch rolled his eyes. “Ignore Davey Jones over there, he’s a stick in the mud,” he joked, jabbing his thumb in Davey’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Davey sighed, putting his hand to his face. “It’s Jacobs, Finch, you know that.”  He looked a lot taller now that he was up closer. Any brief moment Anthony had of feeling safe seemed to slip away in that moment. “Sorry they had to be the first one of us you met. I’m Davey, you’ve met my little brother, Les.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>They.</span></em> <em><span>Got it.</span></em><span> Anthony noted.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s also met me.” Finch said smugly. They leaned against a stack of crates, a cheeky smirk accompanying their words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, he has. Finch, go tell Medda she’s got work for me and then go back to sleep. Don’t wake anybody else up, not even Katherine. Let Jack and I handle anything tomorrow morning.” Davey’s tone was that of a tired mother, trying to herd her children down to bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Anthony would realize how accurate that observation was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got it.” Finch gave a wide, smug grin before heading out of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>David wasn’t boring holes into Anthony’s skin, but that hadn’t changed the fact that he was still terrified. The blond knew he couldn’t handle a fistfight. That was a given. Still, as he watched David pace back and forth around the room, he only wondered if his first thought was correct: that he would die here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a solid few minutes of leaving him to ponder, the taller of the two cleared his throat to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky we found you first. Some of the others aren't as... how should I say this? Welcoming.” Davey didn’t seem hostile so much as slightly dazed from his distrupted sleep. “I should mention, before you get to her, Medda is a surgeon. She’s going to be making sure you’re not hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whys everyone bein’ so nice?” Anthony asked. He didn’t think the question was that strange, but it still felt inappropriate. There was no reason this ship should be so kind to a thief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Half of us are runaways and every single one of us has something we’d rather be forgetting. You had a reason for running, too. We aren’t the kind to toss people out like rats.” Davey wasted no time in getting to the point. “If you don’t mind, you’re going to be doing a bit of work to earn the rest of your trip. If you do mind, don’t.” There was no mistaking the underlying threat in the last sentence</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was still funny, Anthony couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. “It’s better than being gutted, I’d say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Much better than being gutted,” Davey agreed. “Follow me. We always try to make sure everyone on this ship is healthy. Medda will check up on you, make certain you’re not going to die immediately and get you set up with a bed for the night. Tomorrow I’ll get you under the wings of Elmer. Maybe Romeo. They can show you the ropes and what ropes not to touch.” With that, he left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony shut up and followed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You're With Medda Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anthony is terrified until a kind heart reassures him.</p><p>He thinks he might be okay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another thank you to my betas! You guys really are the best.</p><p>Albert - @alberts-hat<br/>Dylan - @fakenewsies</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anthony didn’t know hallways could be built so long. The ship was massive, sure, but the hall still felt far too outstretched. He felt like he was in an endless loop as there was only enough light to make out the entry where Davey was leading him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It dawned on the blond that he barely heard the water crashing against the boat. He wondered if he was delusional, or if the ancient wooden hull was just that thick. This was only one level, he couldn’t imagine the scale of the whole thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Davey had been kind enough to wait until they had reached their destination to excuse himself back to bed. The wing he was being shown was the larger one Anthony had seen a few days prior. There was no door to be seen. Instead, there was an open section of the wall. Notches were missing in the frame, having held splinters at another point in time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You the man that Finch came hollerin’ me awake about?” a woman in a luxurious gown called, voice gentle as she appeared in the doorway. “Come in, come in! Let Miss Medda see what the problem is.” She beckoned Anthony inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blond panicked slightly, arms coming up to cross over his chest. He didn’t need an examination right now. There was no way to know what reaction he would gain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, ma’am,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something about Medda felt safe, even when Anthony was as viscerally terrified as he was. No wonder the crew went to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don't gotta be afraid. Even if we’re not some law-abiding bunch, that don’t mean we’re missing our hearts,” Medda said, almost melodically. The thief casually ignored the law mention. “Come in, come in,” she repeated, gently laying a hand on his shoulder and bringing him into the room. “Any pain at all? Anythin’ that you’ve had for so long you’ve come to just ignore it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony huffed and shook his head. She didn’t need to call him out like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No ma’am,” he lied, standing by the heightened cot he’d been led to. “No pain, no injuries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear it, now how’s about you sit yourself down and I’ll get you somethin’ to drink. You won't have to steal no more from us.” Medda went over to a shelf on the wall, grabbing some things from a torn package and heading out toward the endless hallway. Anthony was left with his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right then, in the moment, he thought he could run. He could find a new hiding spot and not have to worry again until they stopped. But why? The crew had been exceptionally nice to him so far and they had no idea who he was beyond his name. That, and that he’d been stealing from them for a good number of days. He only stole enough food to eat, but theft was theft nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He considered his options. If the blond was honest with himself, he figured they’d be kicking him off the boat as soon as they stopped anyways. They wouldn’t want him around for much longer than he had to be. That was always the case. Anthony would show up and stick around for a little while until somehow he found a way to make everyone regret befriending him and get tossed to the curb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One part of him didn’t want it to happen again. He didn’t want to get close if they were going to kick him out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other part was so used to it that it overruled the fear. He’d been through it so many times, what was the point of trying to prevent it? It would creep up to get him again. It always did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I got a cure for that glum look around here somewhere.” Medda strolled back into the room a while later with a cup of hot liquid. It smelled like tea, the natural scent filling the air with a pleasant aroma. “I wouldn’t get all wrapped up in your head now, we’re on one of our longest stretches yet. You’re gonna be here a while, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Great. Maybe Anthony would end up dead. Killed for the sheer annoyance he’d been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Medda,” Anthony mumbled, desperately trying not to be obvious. It didn’t work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, I know you’re probably real tired right now, sos how ‘bout I get you a bed and tomorrow we can work on meeting everyone, yeah?” Medda handed him the cup as she came closer, patting his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blond didn’t mind, he was simply thankful for the tea. He took a sip of the hot liquid, not caring that it burned his mouth. The shred of comforting warmth that spread through his chest made it worth the sting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get what?” Medda asked. “How tea works or what a bed is?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. Still, he laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh, I know how tea works, Miss Medda,” he began, “What beds are, too. I just don’t get why you’re offerin’ one to me.” Medda said it herself, they were criminals. Pirates. They had a reputation of being killers and no real reason to be nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“David didn’t tell you, did he? We’re not monsters, sweetie.” Medda brought herself over to a secluded corner of the open room. Yet again, she beckoned the boy over. He finished off the small amount of tea he had left before joining her next to a small cot. “And for a thief, you aren’t all that great at putting on a fake smile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blond paused. She saw right through him the whole time. She didn’t press when he said he was fine. It made him wonder how much she knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you are. Nobody’s gonna disturb you sleeping here. Usually it's for our more injured folk, but lucky as we are we aint got none. Least not right now.” The woman laid out a sheet for him. It was old and tattered, but it looked comfortable nonetheless. “Get yourself some rest, and you’ll be properly introduced in the morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anthony stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. Medda didn’t seem to mind. She wished him a goodnight and left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sleep came easier than he thought it would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blamed the tea.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>